


to love is to receive a glimpse of heaven

by weonderlust



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, honestly idk what is this, no deaths i swear, ooc!jihoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weonderlust/pseuds/weonderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where you could see the exact date of when someone is going to die, except yourself, Kwon Soonyoung finds himself falling for a boy who spends his time writing in a hospital room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to love is to receive a glimpse of heaven

“It’s cruel,” a lady suddenly sighs from where she is seating. Soonyoung looks up from his phone to face his mother. She’s dressed in a doctor’s clothing, biting lips that were coloured in a dark shade of red—even redder now because she’s biting a little bit hard, _too_ hard—and eyebrows furrowed.

“What is, mom?” Soonyoung asks, but truthfully, he’s not interested at all.

They’re on their way to the hospital and he liked the silence. He looks away to look at the view outside of the car and grumbles to himself, bracing himself for the verbal paragraph of philosophy his mom will give him.

But instead, he hears crying.

“It’s so, _so_ cruel.”

He quickly grabs the tissue box at the backseat and hands her a tissue. “Mom? You okay?”

“Don’t you think this… _gift_ is a little bit cruel?”

“Gift?” he feigns curiosity, but he knows.

No one is sure when or how it began but it starts with people realizing they could see numbers on everyone’s wrist— _except_ for theirs—and rejoicing because _oh, this is like those stories! It’s the date when you’ll meet your soulmate!_

They weren’t laughing when the date wasn’t the day they met their soulmate. They cried when it was the date the angel of death came to them, telling them it’s time to go.

So, of course Soonyoung knows what his mother is talking about.

(Everyone knows, actually. It’s the source for all the broken hearts in this world, after all.)

She wipes her right eye, left hand still on the steering wheel. “The gift,” she hiccups, “to know the date of someone’s death.”

Soonyoung purses his lips. “Hold on, am I dying?”

The car suddenly jolts at a stop and he almost flew out of his seat. He mutters profanity words while also mentally thanking himself for wearing the seatbelt.

“Oh, God, no!” his mother screams. “Goodness, no.”

“Then _why_ are you being so emotional?”

His mother looks at him with the same pair of crestfallen eyes as his father did a few years ago when he looked at Soonyoung— _nine-year-old Soonyoung_ —for the last time before slamming the front door so hard, it almost sounded like a gunshot.

His heart misses a beat.

“It’s just that… when I see all these patients at the hospital and the numbers on their wrists… it b-breaks my heart. I can’t do anything about it.”

“Mom—”

“Oh, there’s this lovely boy at the hospital,” her mother smiles softly, “who writes songs and poems and sings, and his voice is really beautiful, but he’s—”

The smile on her face falters then fades completely.

Soonyoung doesn’t need to guess. “He’s dying.”

“Yeah,” it’s barely a whisper but Soonyoung could hear the crack in her words and the shattering sound of his mother’s heart.

The rest of the car ride is silent. The only audio they could hear was the song playing on the radio at a soft volume.

It takes them a few more minutes without any conversation to reach the hospital. His mother parks the car but before he could get out, she whispers, “He’s one of my favourite patients,” with a voice so hoarse and resigned, it hurts to hear.

 

×××

 

“He’s a little bit shy at first so be nice,” Soonyoung’s mother says (for the nth time, he adds) before she knocks on a door. “Jihoon-ah?” There’s sounds of paper sheets and drawers opening and closing. “It’s me.”

Soonyoung’s mother opens the door slightly before chuckling when she sees Jihoon curled up on his bed, papers scattered everywhere. “Good afternoon, Jihoon. You haven’t cleaned up, I see.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor Kwon,” the boy smiles. “Yeah, I just ate lunch so I haven’t organised my papers.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he says but Soonyoung could see the way his voice softens a little and he knows he’s lying. He coughs which brings his mother’s attention to him.

“Oh, um, yes,” his mother clears her throat. “This is my son, Soonyoung. I’ve told you a little about him.”

His mother nudges Soonyoung’s ribs. _Say something_ , his mother glares.

“Uh, hi?”

“H-Hello,” Jihoon squeaks and looks down.

Soonyoung looks away and sigh. This will be a long day. He turns to see his mother beaming, a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Great! You already seen each other,” she checks her wristwatch. “I have a shift in 2 minutes so I hope you’ll get along. Good bye, boys!”

After Soonyoung hears the door being closed, he flops down on the couch across the room and pulls out his phone, texting Seokmin about how his mom had the literal audacity to leave him alone with a boy he has never met before.

Seokmin never replies though so he gives up and walk towards Jihoon’s bed. A conversation can’t hurt, won’t it?

“So,” he begins, “what are you here for?”

Jihoon flinches a little. “U-Um, a lot of reasons, actually.”

“Give me one.”

“Bone marrow f-failure.”

Soonyoung nods. “And you write, huh?”

“Y-Yes.”

It’s silent after that.

“Well, this is awkward.”

“Um, Soonyoung-ssi?”

“What?”

“You can d-do anything you want. I’m going to take a nap. Just, um,” his cheeks turn bright pink and Soonyoung would be lying to himself if he didn’t think that was cute, “uh, don’t read any of my writings.”

 _Why would I even read them?_ “Okay.”

 

×××

 

Soonyoung’s mom makes him promise to visit Jihoon for at least once a week. (Soonyoung blames himself for being so weak. Every time his mother looks at him with eyes that reminds him of his past, _of his father_ , his walls are suddenly down and his heart softens.)

Now, though, he _really_ wants to take back that promise.

Jihoon absentmindedly scrolls on his phone. “So when’s your birthday?”

“June 15, 1996.”

“Oh, we’re born in the same year, then! Mine’s on the 22th of November. I wished I was born in October, though. It’s the month of Halloween and pumpkins.”

Soonyoung is staring outside the window for the past fifteen minutes, trying to give Jihoon the hint that he doesn’t want to engage in any conversations.

“How about you? What’s your favourite month?”

“I don’t have a favourite month. They’re all the same.”

“Hm,” Jihoon hums and Soonyoung stands up to stretch. Didn’t his mother say something about him being the quiet type?

“Ah, a cat!” The younger shows a picture of cat on his cell phone and continues his almost one-sided conversation. “I really like cats. I prefer dogs, though. Cats are lazy. Like you, probably.”

Jihoon giggles and Soonyoung tries not to wonder if that was just the younger’s way of teasing or if that was an insult.

“My dad used to have a cat but he ran away,” Jihoon pouts. “What about you? Did your dad had any pets?”

“My father left when I was nine,” he says rather coldly and Jihoon slowly places his phone on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he starts.

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t need pity. It happened years ago.”

“I apologize for bringing it up,” Jihoon stammers while nervously playing with the hem of his blanket. “I didn’t mean—”

“Can you please just _shut up_?” Soonyoung bellows and the younger winces. “You’re being so annoying.”

“How am I being annoying?” Jihoon retaliates, surprising both of them.

“You ask too much questions.”

“That’s because I don’t really have anyone to talk to right now.”

Soonyoung ruffles his hair in frustration. “Just go write some stuff, I’m busy.”

“By busy, do you mean texting your friend about how boring it is in here?”

The older growls. “That’s busy to me.”

“If you’re so _busy_ , then why are you even here?”

Soonyoung snaps. He’s had enough already. “Because my mom forced me, okay?! I don’t want to be here. _I didn’t plan to be here_. You want to know why my mom forced me? It’s because she pities you for _dying_ that she’s using me to be your ‘friend’. She adores you so, so much that she’s miserable as hell at the fact that you’re about to die!”

He’s panting at the end of his rant and he doesn’t dare to look up, but he does anyways and then regrets every single thing he just uttered.

Jihoon is looking at him with tear-filled eyes. He looks so vulnerable than ever. The guilt triples when he sees the younger turning his head away, biting his lips and clutching the blanket to keep himself from crying.

“Shit, Jihoon, I—” he’s about to apologize when a wrist is shoved into his face.

The younger is still not looking at him but Soonyoung could see the tears streaming down his face. “How long?”

“Huh?”

“How much time do I have left?” he asks a little bit desperately and when the older sees the tattoo-like symbols written on his wrist, his heart stops beating for a second.

 _XX0615_.

 _My birthday_.

“What month is it again?” he asks, surprised at how calm he sounds.

Jihoon stares at his wrist, wishing he could see the numbers. “It’s July, now.”

“Almost a y-year, then.”

Jihoon goes under the confines of his blanket, murmuring something of the lines “You can leave now,” to the other.

(The crying that came after that is something Soonyoung will never forget.)

 

×××

 

Soonyoung is walking back from football practise with Seokmin but his mind is currently occupied by a certain someone who loves to write, that’s ( _maybe, kind of, perhaps_ ) cute when his cheeks turn pink.

“Hoshi?” his head snaps back to reality when he hears his nickname.

“Huh?”

“I asked you what time practise starts tomorrow,” Seokmin asks, raising an eyebrow, “You seem worried.”

“I just— how do you say sorry to someone?”

“Depends on who that someone is.”

“I said some mean things to him and now, I feel really bad.”

Seokmin hums. “Him?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“Can I know who this _him_ is?”

“I’ll introduce you to him, maybe.” _Maybe not_. He’s not sure if Jihoon even wants him to visit again.

“Let’s go,” Seokmin points to a bakery shop across the street. “I’m hungry.”

 

 

“What’s this?”

On his bedside table is a box that smells like chocolate, strawberry, and honey. Jihoon looks up to see Soonyoung rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I brought you some cupcakes.”

“…Why?”

Soonyoung sighs. “I want to say sorry. Sorry about everything I said last week. I— I was a little stressed out when you brought up my dad into the conversation but then again, it was also bad of me to say those stuff to you.”

Jihoon opens the box, grabs the honey-flavoured cupcake and gives it to the older. “That’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

“Let’s start this again. I was being a total asshole,” Soonyoung breathes in and smiles, “I’m Kwon Soonyoung. Captain of SNU’s football team and also a dance major.”

Jihoon laughs and it’s a laugh that stars probably listens for. “Lee Jihoon, I love to write and sing.”

“So,” Soonyoung sits down on the nearby chair, “tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you wanna know?”

“Hm, which class are you in? Mom said we’re in the same university but I don’t really see you.”

“That’s because I’m always being hospitalized. The last time I’ve been to school was last month,” Jihoon explains. “I’m from Class 5. Just across yours.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t feel bad. Like I said, I’m not around school or the dorms anymore.”

“If you _were_ at school, where would you always go?”

Jihoon replies with no hesitation. “Music room, definitely.”

“I would be dancing in the dance room, killing my legs in the process.”

The younger laughs hard and his cheeks are tinted pink again. His laugh echoes around the room and Soonyoung smiles fondly, deciding that this is better— _always_ better—than a crying Jihoon. He promises himself that he’ll always make Jihoon laugh.

 

×××

 

It doesn’t take long. Just a few more visits and suddenly it’s September, and they’re like best friends, more or less, who can never be separated.

“Ah, time flies too fast, huh?” Soonyoung asks, motioning Jihoon to move a little so he could lay down on the bed as well.

“I wish I could fly,” Jihoon says.

“Like a superhero?”

The other laughs. “No, no. Kind of. Yes? Yeah.”

Before Soonyoung could ask what he means, a nurse knocks on the door and comes in. “It’s time for lunch.”

“And time for football practise,” the older stands up and stretches.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah.”

(They don’t say goodbye. They don’t know why. Maybe. Maybe they _do_ know why. Maybe it’s an unspoken promise not to say it, for _goodbye_ has many meanings behind it.)

 

 

Seokmin tackles him down the moment he sees Soonyoung. “Dude, you’re late. Coach is going to _murder_ you.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung stands up, brushing the dirt. “I was at the hospital.”

“Jihoon, again? Man, what’s with you and him? Is there a relationship that I, your bestfriend, should know about?” he grins.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Soonyoung explains but there’s an empty feeling in him—almost like disappointment—when he says that. “It’s nice talking to him.”

“You’re just doing it out of pity,” a voice remarks from behind them.

Soonyoung turns around. “Seungcheol,” he says in a low grating voice, almost threatening.

“You feel guilty because you never notice him at all. Soonyoung,” he laughs and Soonyoung clenches his fist, “you didn’t even knew he existed! And now he’s dying, you’re suddenly nice and giving all your attention to him.”

“I don’t—”

“That’s _disgusting_ , Soonyoung. Truly upsetting.”

“Shut up. You don’t know anything.”

“But you’re not denying it, aren’t you? Listen, you can go pity visit him all the time but as captain—”

Soonyoung punches him, his fist having contact with the other’s jaw and Seungcheol drops to the ground. When he tries to get up, the other pins his foot on his shoulder, almost stepping on him while scowling.

“That’s right. I _am_ captain and you,” he puts pressure on his foot and Seungcheol whimpers, “need to learn respect.”

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin grabs his shoulder to calm him down. Across the field, the coach is screaming to break it up before both boys are sent to the principal’s office.

Soonyoung plays with an almost permanent face, shooting daggers with his eyes at everyone. When he gets the chance to kick the ball, he ‘accidentally’ aims it at Seungcheol’s face. _Hard_.

 

×××

 

The next day, he goes back to Jihoon’s room with knuckles bruising and hopes it doesn’t get noticed.

It does.

“What happened?” the younger almost screams.

“Calm down,” Soonyoung lays down next to him, closing his eyes and wanting to forget what happened. “There was an… accident on the field.”

“Liar.”

He sighs in defeat. “Okay, I got into a fight.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“The person was talking shit,” _about you and I couldn’t let anyone do that_.

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment before laying down next to him, face to face. “Are you hurt?”

Soonyoung could feel his face burning at the closeness of their face but he shakes his head. “No, I’m not hurt. Knuckles are just bruising, that’s all.”

 

×××

 

Soonyoung watches Jihoon writing with his lips into a pout and eyebrows furrowed. He watches Jihoon shaking his head, unsatisfied with whatever he wrote. He watches Jihoon lowering his pen and closing his eyes.

“You seemed stressed,” he finally comments.

The younger bites his lips. “The words don’t… fall in place.”

“Is it that frustrating?”

“Yeah.”

 Soonyoung knows Jihoon hates this question but he asks anyways, “Can I read it?”

He sees the other freeze for a moment. “...Not ready. _Yet_.”

“That’s fine. Do you want me to massage your back? You have to relax a little. Maybe then the words will come together.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon shifts so his back is to Soonyoung, “that would be nice.”

He closes his eyes while the older massages him and now he understands why his back hurts a lot. His muscles were too tense. He almost falls asleep when Soonyoung stops and he whines.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Scapula.”

“Um, yeah, it is.”

“Scapula are said to be what’s left of our wings.”

Jihoon laughs and _oh_ , how Soonyoung loves the sound of his laugh. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Some girl blurted it out in Biology class today.”

Jihoon laughs again. “Do you think that’s real?”

“No? I mean, humans are humans. We’re made without wings.”

 _But then again, we were originally born without the ability to see the date of someone’s death on their wrist_ , he thinks but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“What about angels? Do you think they have wings?”

“Of course.”

The younger yawns. “I’m sleepy.”

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll leave when visiting hours are over.”

“You should rest, too,” Jihoon says sleepily, shifting to the other side of the bed and patting the empty space next to him. _Who am I to say no?_ The older thinks as he lifts the blanket to cover both of their lower halves.

As Soonyoung lays down next to him, with Jihoon sprawled on his chest (Soonyoung realizes he moves a lot in his sleep), eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a tired facial expression because Jihoon is exhausted of everything but still managing to look so beautiful and ethereal and breath-taking—he realizes.

Not all angels have wings.

 

×××

 

Soonyoung reads one of Jihoon’s excerpts the following week.

He knocks on the door and when there was no answer, he peeks inside, expecting Jihoon to be there. He goes inside and place the strawberry cupcake (Jihoon grew to love those) and honey-flavoured one (it’s like that. Strawberry and honey—always strawberry and honey) he bought on the bedside table.

The door creaks and he turns around to see his mother. “Mom?”

“Oh, Soonyoungie. I knew you were going to be here,” she says, smiling.

“Where’s Jihoon?” There’s a worrying tone in his voice and his mother chuckles.

“Ah, don’t worry. He’s at the rehabilitation program on the other side on the block. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nods and sits on the bed and watches his mother leave the room and closing the door. He was about to lay down when he sees a sky blue book on the chair he usually sits on. _Jihoon might have left it there_.

Soonyoung grabs the book. He’s not nosy, don’t be mistaken. “I’m just curious,” he mutters to himself while opening to a random page.

 

 

_Excerpt #48_

_“Anne Frank once wrote down that the dead people receive more flowers than the living because regret is stronger than gratitude,” I say and he looks at me._

_“Do you agree?” he asks. I shake my head. While I agree with that, I also disagree._

_“In my opinion, people nowadays don’t even visit the dead anymore. You know who they visit instead?”_

_It’s his turn to shake his head. “No. Who?”_

_“The almost dead,” I answer, gazing into his eyes. “People like me. Because while regret is stronger than gratitude, pity is far much worse than regret.”_

 

 

The door opens and Soonyoung quickly shoves the book under the pillow.

“Soonyoungie?” Jihoon’s voice is soft. “You okay?”

“Kind of. Jihoon?”

“Yeah?”

The older opens his arms and Jihoon doesn’t think twice to hug him. “Did something happen?”

“Not really. No,” Soonyoung answers, squeezing him a little too tightly because he’s scared that if he lets go, Jihoon won’t be there anymore.

“Hey,” the other whispers and he looks up.

“I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”

Soonyoung nods and Jihoon pretends he doesn’t see the tears that were streaming on the older’s face.

 

×××

 

Months pass by and Soonyoung still visits him every time Jihoon’s hospitalized. It’s like a habit, an addiction he can’t break, a way to forget his worries. Even for a little while.

But how can he do that when everytime he walks into that room, he’s reminded of the very reason why Jihoon is there?

He hears the whispers between his friends and teammates— _He’s hopeless_.

He knows that. He’s knows he’s hopeless because everyone is aware of the fact that he fell for the dying boy—yet at the same time, Jihoon is the one giving him hope, too.

It’s complicated.

(Or perhaps, it’s not. Either way, he can’t think.)

Jihoon looks at him and smiles so brightly, it could rival the sun. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I brought your favourite cupcake.”

“Yay!”

How could he live on knowing that one day, he’ll have to walk to an empty room—no more paper sheets here and there, no more smiles and giggles and tinted cheeks, _no more Jihoon_ —with a nurse saying an overused phrase of “I’m sorry”?

 _October 15_.

 _8 months left_.

 

×××

 

“Happy birthday, Jihoonie,” Soonyoung greets him and the younger smiles shyly at the nickname.

“Thank you.”

There it is again. The tinted pink cheeks of his that makes it even harder for Soonyoung not to fall. (He already fell for him, though and he fell hard.)

“So, I know you’re about to beg me to tell you what’s your present—”

“Actually, no, not really,” Jihoon cuts him off, teasing the other.

“—and your present is a surprise so you have to be patient—”

“I didn’t even ask for a present, though.”

“—but since it’s your birthday, I’ll tell you so just stop begging—”

“I’m not begging.”

“ _Jihoon_ ,” Soonyoung says desperately and Jihoon laughs.

“Okay, okay, stop pouting, sheesh,” the younger ruffles the other’s hair, “What’s my present?”

Soonyoung flashes him a wide smile and he bounces around the room, excitedly. “We’re going out!”

Jihoon tilts his head in confusion, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Soonyoung abruptly leans in—their faces so close, _too_ close and Jihoon can’t breathe, “I’m taking you out of this dump to have some fun! I already got permission from my mom and the hospital.”

“Wha—”

“Just go ahead and wash up. It’s your birthday and I’m going to spoil you rotten.”

 

 

Soonyoung brings him to an amusement park and the museum. The whole day was filled with so much laughter and corny jokes and music and smell and taste—everything was just so amazing. A whirlwind of experiences Jihoon forgot existed.

By the time the sun sets in, the older tells him to close his eyes for a special surprise.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” Soonyoung hums.

“Does that mean I can open my eyes now?”

“No! Close your eyes. No peeking.”

“I’m _not_.”

Jihoon could hear the waves and smell the sea so he knows he’s at the beach. Soonyoung said that it was his personal gift to him (since everything else they did today was partially his mom’s idea). In Soonyoung’s opinion though, this will definitely be better than the previous gifts today.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Jihoon slowly opens his eyes, blinking rapidly and adjusting to the light of the moon but when he sees the picnic mat on the beach and Soonyoung patting the empty space, he smiles, tears filling his eyes.

“What do you think?”

“I’m lost for words.”

“How about ‘Soonyoungie, you’re amazing, this is definitely the best birthday gift ever,’?”

Jihoon giggles. “Yeah. That works too.”

“Come here.”

They chat, joke around and talk about so many things—the universe, stars and constellations, music, cats, Greek mythologies, John Green, quotes, angels, books, their past, their future—and when they finished eating, the lay down on the mat, shoulder to shoulder.

“Thank you so much for today,” the younger says.

“It’s noth—”

“Don’t say it’s nothing. This has been the best day of my life. I’ve never been this happy before. I—”

His voice cracks and that’s all it takes for Soonyoung to realize he’s crying. He wraps his arms around him and pull him into his chest. “Shh, shh, hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Jihoon looks up at him with a crestfallen face and it breaks the older’s heart. Before he could stop the words from rolling off his tongue, he says, “I love you.”

The younger tenses. There’s no sign of rejection on his face, just pure sadness and despair.

“Soonyoungie,” Jihoon hiccups, “I think you know how I feel too but right now, I can’t say it.”

“…Why?”

“You weren’t supposed to fall.”

“But I did, and I have no regrets whatsoever.”

“You’ll regret it, soon.”

“And why would I?”

“Because I’m not sure I’ll even live to see tomorrow and I don’t— I won’t hurt you like that. I would never want to cause you pain. I don’t even know if I want to continue treatment—”

“What?”

“Soonyoung—”

“Why the hell would you want to stop treatment?”

The sounds of the waves and Jihoon’s sniffles could be heard but there was no answer.

“Lee Jihoon!”

“Because I don’t really care anymore,” he answers, barely a whisper.

Soonyoung’s heart is beating too fast. “What about your surgery?”

“My parents might cancel it.”

“What the actual fu—”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon’s voice is resigned but there’s fear in his tone, too, “I— I want to die so badly. I want to get out of this hospital but not into the world out there. I want to be free, to be able to meet the others who roam around because they’re forgotten, too. Because that’s what I am—forgotten and so, so lost.”

The older sits up and pulls the other into a tight hug. He’s crying, too.

So, they just sit there. Under the stars, crying in each other’s arms because no words are available at the moment. Minds cluttering with thoughts of _what if_ or _maybe_.

(But they don’t pull away or run from the other. They need each other. That’s what they realize in spite of everything and they think, at least, that’s okay.)

“You’re not forgotten, you know,” Soonyoung is the first to break the silence.

“It seems like I am,” the younger wipes his tears with the other’s shirt. “My parents… they don’t care enough to visit me, anymore. The only person paying for the treatments is my aunt who lives on the other side of the world.”

Soonyoung cups his cheeks. “Sometimes, parents aren’t the only people in the world that exists to love us. Sometimes, most of the times actually, it’s other people.”

Jihoon hiccups.

“My mom cares about you. Your true friends cares about you. The teachers at school ask me how you’re doing, they care about you. Remember that one time you asked me to get another of your many journal from your dorm? Your roommates all suffocated me to death asking how you’ve been.”

The younger laughs and the other kisses the top of his head softly.

“Most of all, I care about you. I really do. I’m glad I met you, I hope you know that. And I love you so much. I’ll hold your hand and we’re going to go through this together, okay? You’re not pressured to say it now but I just— I want you to know that I’m willing to wait for you.”

Jihoon nods frantically, crying into his chest. Soon, he falls asleep and dreams of strawberry and honey cupcakes, late night picnics on beaches under the stars and happy endings.

 

×××

 

Jihoon wasn’t writing when Soonyoung visits him again so like a habit they both do, they lay down next to each other. The younger draws invisible lines on the other’s hands and after a while, he links their fingers together and it feels just right. Complete. Like a puzzle finally finding it’s missing piece.

“Soonyoungie,” he calls the other and turns to his side to face him.

“Yeah?”

“I— I’m going to undergo surgery.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.”

Soonyoung faces him too and waits for him to continue.

“It’s scheduled in May but…”

“But?”

“I’ll have to go to where my aunt lives.”

It takes Soonyoung a few seconds before realizing, “You’re going to New York?”

“Y-Yes. My aunt wants me to continue treatment immediately.”

“That’s like, on the other side of the world!”

“I’m sorr—”

Soonyoung laughs. “Why are you apologizing? You’re going to America.”

“I thought you’ll be sad about me leaving.”

Soonyoung caress his cheeks. “As much as I’ll miss you, I’m happier that you’re going to get better. You’re going to New York, oh my God! You better bring me souvenirs.”

They both laugh. Jihoon moves closer so he can rest on Soonyoug’s chest and hear his heartbeat.

“Do you think I’ll live?” The younger asks once the laughter dies down. Soonyoung stiffens and Jihoon notices. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I would ask the same thing if I were you,” Soonyoung buries his face in the other’s hair. “But I really can’t answer that for you. When is your flight to New York, by the way?”

“Next week.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

(They still don’t say goodbye.)

 

×××

 

The sunlight kisses his skin and Soonyoung opens his eyes. It’s a Sunday—it’s his birthday, he realizes once he checks his phone.

He stands up, wincing as he stretches. He then washes up, takes his car keys and drives to get his morning coffee. He knows he has a ton of work to do but instead of going back to his dorm, he walks along the almost empty streets, following wherever his footsteps take him.

His mind wanders and he thinks of the boy he met last year. The boy who writes too much. The boy with the blinding smile and addicting laugh. The boy that has today’s date written on his wrist and Soonyoung stops walking.

He misses Jihoon. He really does. Sometimes, it aches him and he gets distracted.

He looks around to realize he stopped at a familiar place, but nothing could beat the surprise he gets when he sees a familiar figure.

“Jihoon,” he mutters, more wondering that asking.

And the figure turns around and his breath hitches. It’s Jihoon—on the same spot that Soonyoung took him on his birthday and now he’s here, smiling ear to ear.

Soonyoung takes slow baby steps to make sure that this isn’t a dream because he’s had too many similar dreams that ends up the same—waking up.

But Jihoon is running and suddenly, his back is on the sandy ground. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes when he realizes that this isn’t another one of his imagination. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

The younger smiles and he kisses him and everything feels perfect.

“I love you,” Soonyoung says and this time, there are no anxieties or worries. They have plenty of time now.

“I love you, too,” Jihoon finally says and places his forehead on the other. “I’m sorry it took too long.”

“You’re here now and that’s all it matters,” Soonyoung smiles. “Let’s get cupcakes after this.”

“Strawberry and honey?”

“Strawberry and honey.”

(It’s like that. Strawberry and honey—always strawberry and honey.)

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted on aff under the same name :)
> 
> SNU stands for Seoul National University. also, i wrote the date like XX0615 because there’s no specific year here.


End file.
